CHAPTER 2

Sienna turned another page in her book, but her eyes barely skimmed the words. The plot was intriguing, but between work and sleep, she had barely made any progress. She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she glanced at the clock. Her shift was starting soon.

With a reluctant sigh, she closed the book and stretched, feeling the satisfying pop of her joints. It was time to get ready.

She stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of the day. The steam curled around her, the heat loosening her muscles. It was one of the few moments of solitude she truly enjoyed—no noise, no customers, no expectations. Just her and the soothing water.

After towel-drying her hair, she dressed in a sleek black top and fitted jeans, both stylish and practical for the night ahead. She tied her hair into a loose bun and applied a subtle touch of makeup—just enough to highlight her sharp cheekbones and full lips.

Grabbing her keys, she headed out.

---

The moment Sienna stepped into Velvet Noir, the familiar pulse of music vibrated through her chest. The club was alive, a sultry blend of deep red lighting and gold accents. The scent of expensive liquor and perfume filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations.

She slipped behind the bar, where Marco was already busy, effortlessly juggling orders. He turned the moment he saw her, flashing his usual smirk.

“Sienna,” he greeted, twirling a bottle of gin before setting it down. “Looking dangerously good, as always.”

She smirked, tying her apron. “And you look like you crawled out of bed five minutes ago.”

“Close. Ten minutes.” He ruffled his blond hair, as if making it messier on purpose. “But let’s not focus on me. More importantly, guess what?”

She raised a brow. “What?”

“We finally have the same day off tomorrow,” he said, wiggling his brows. “Drinks? Just you and me?”

Sienna chuckled. “Trying to get me drunk, Marco?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I would never.”

She gave him a playful look. “Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”

“Me? Never,” Marco grinned. “Tomorrow night, then. I’ll text you.”

Before she could reply, a customer approached the bar.

A tall man with sharp blue eyes leaned against the counter, flashing her a charming smile. “Whiskey, neat.”

Sienna nodded, reaching for the bottle. As she poured the amber liquid into a glass, the man studied her.

“You look new,” he remarked.

She slid the glass toward him. “I’ve been here for over a year.”

He looked surprised. “Really? How have I never noticed you?”

Sienna gave a small smile but didn’t answer. She was used to customers like him—men who liked to think they were the most interesting person in the room.

“You have a name?” he asked.

She leaned against the counter. “I do.”

His smile widened. “And are you going to tell me?”

She tilted her head. “That depends. Are you going to tip well?”

The man chuckled, reaching for his wallet. He placed a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “That enough for a name?”

Sienna smirked, pocketing the bill. “It’s Sienna.”

“Beautiful name,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

She gave him a polite nod before moving on to the next order.

The night continued in a steady blur of pouring drinks, mixing cocktails, and exchanging banter with customers. The crowd grew wilder, the music louder, the air thicker with laughter and intoxication.

Marco nudged her at one point. “If we survive this night, I’m buying the first round tomorrow.”

She laughed. “Deal.”

Just as she was handing a martini to a woman in a red dress, a sudden shift in the air made her pause.

A presence.

Strong. Commanding.

She didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Damian Laurent.

He stood at the bar, hands resting against the polished wood, his gaze fixed on her.

Marco, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air, stepped forward. “Good evening, Mr. Laurent. What can I get you?”

Damian didn’t even glance at him. “Not you.”

Marco hesitated. “Sir?”

Damian’s eyes remained locked on Sienna. “I want her to make it.”

Sienna felt Marco’s gaze shift to her in silent question.

She swallowed, her fingers tightening around the cloth she had been using to wipe the counter.

Damian’s expression didn’t waver. He was waiting.

She took a steady breath. “What would you like?”

“Something strong,” he said, his voice low, smooth. “But sweet.”

A familiar request.

She nodded, reaching for the ingredients. This time, she chose bourbon, dark honey liqueur, and a hint of spiced orange bitters. Her hands were steady, but she could feel his gaze on her, watching her every movement with unsettling intensity.

She set the glass in front of him.

Damian picked it up, swirling the liquid before taking a slow sip.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You remember,” he murmured.

Sienna met his gaze. “I have a good memory.”

His smirk deepened, but his eyes remained unreadable. “Do you?”

There was something in the way he said it—something that made her pulse quicken.

She forced herself to keep her composure. “Is the drink to your liking?”

Damian set the glass down with deliberate slowness. “It’s perfect.”

Another silence stretched between them.

Marco, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. “Uh, Sienna, I’ll take over the next round of orders. You… got this?”

She barely heard him.

Because Damian was still watching her.

As if he was waiting for something.

Finally, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sienna.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the dimly lit club.

Sienna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Marco whistled lowly. “Okay. What the hell was that?”

She shook her head, but even as she turned back to work, her mind wasn’t on the customers.

It was on Damian Laurent.

And the way he made her feel like a carefully chosen drink—something he intended to savor.

The last hour of the shift was always the slowest. The energy inside Velvet Noir had dulled, the music no longer throbbing but fading into a sultry hum in the background. Most of the crowd had already stumbled out into the night, leaving behind the lingering scent of spilled liquor and expensive cologne.

Sienna wiped down the counter for what felt like the hundredth time, suppressing a yawn. Marco leaned beside her, twirling an empty glass between his fingers.

“Finally,” he sighed, stretching his arms. “Another night survived.”

She smirked. “You say that like we fought in a war.”

“Hey, you didn’t see that guy earlier who tried to climb on the bar for a ‘better view.’ I had to talk him down before security threw him out. I was in a war, Sienna.”

She chuckled, tossing her rag aside. “Go clock out, hero. Your battle is over.”

Marco grinned. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Sienna checked the time—closing had officially arrived. Most of the other staff were already wrapping up, collecting their things, and heading out.

As she finished up, Marco returned, now in his leather jacket, his hair even messier than before.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said casually.

Sienna rolled her eyes, slipping her bag over her shoulder. “Marco, I live five minutes away.”

“I know.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “And I also know that creepy guys exist. So, I’m walking you there.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You do realize I live on the same block as you?”

“Exactly. You’re stuck with me either way.” He smirked. “So, you might as well let me be the gentleman I was born to be.”

She huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Marco grinned triumphantly, holding the door open as they stepped out into the cool night air.

The street was quieter now, the chaos of earlier replaced with an eerie calm. Neon signs flickered, casting colorful reflections onto the wet pavement. The air smelled of rain and lingering cigarette smoke.

They walked side by side, the sound of their footsteps filling the silence.

“So,” Marco started, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Tomorrow’s drinks—what’s your poison?”

Sienna smirked. “You’re the one buying. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“True. But I need to mentally prepare for whatever ridiculous drink you choose.”

She laughed. “You think I’m gonna order something crazy?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re the type to order something with a stupid name, like The Flaming Passion of Death or something.”

Sienna gasped dramatically. “How did you know? I love Flaming Passion of Death.”

Marco groaned. “I walked into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yep.”

They both chuckled, the warmth of the conversation pushing away the night’s lingering exhaustion.

But just as they turned the corner, Sienna’s steps faltered.

A figure stood by the entrance of a black car parked by the curb.

Tall. Commanding.

Damian Laurent.

His suit was still pristine, not a single wrinkle out of place despite the long night. The dim streetlights cast sharp shadows across his face, making his chiseled features even more pronounced.

He wasn’t looking at Marco.

He was looking at her.

The weight of his gaze was suffocating, like a silent demand she couldn’t quite decipher.

Marco, oblivious to the thick tension that suddenly filled the air, greeted him casually. “Hey, Mr. Laurent. You sticking around after hours?”

Damian didn’t answer immediately. He was still watching her.

Finally, he spoke, his voice smooth yet unreadable. “Sienna.”

She swallowed, gripping the strap of her bag tighter. “Mr. Laurent.”

His eyes flickered to Marco for the briefest moment before returning to her.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. My shift’s over.”

Marco, still clueless, grinned. “I was just walking her home. You know, keeping the creeps away.”

Silence.

Then, Damian’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “How chivalrous.”

Something in his tone made the hairs on Sienna’s arms rise.

Marco, still oblivious to the shift in the air, chuckled. “What can I say? I’m a gentleman.”

Damian tilted his head slightly. “Are you?”

Sienna’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. There was something dangerous in Damian’s gaze—something possessive, territorial.

Marco, finally sensing that something was off, scratched the back of his neck. “Well… we should get going. It’s late.”

Damian’s eyes never left hers. “Indeed.”

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, Damian stepped closer.

Marco shifted slightly, as if instinctively placing himself between them, but Damian ignored him.

He was close now. Close enough that Sienna could smell the faint scent of his cologne—something dark and intoxicating.

His voice was softer this time.

“You shouldn’t walk alone at night.”

Her breath hitched. “I’m not alone.”

Damian’s gaze flickered to Marco again, just briefly.

And then, he smirked.

“Goodnight, Sienna.”

The way he said it felt more like a promise than a farewell.

And then, just as silently as he appeared, Damian turned and slid into the back of the black car. The door shut with an ominous finality, and within seconds, the vehicle disappeared down the street.

Sienna exhaled, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

Marco let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

She turned to him. “What?”

“You felt that, right?” He shook his head. “That was some straight-up alpha male dominance crap.”

Sienna rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t ignore the way her heart was still racing.

Marco gave her a suspicious look. “He’s got a thing for you, doesn’t he?”

She scoffed. “Please.”

“Oh, come on. That whole interaction? The way he looked at you?” Marco smirked. “You sure you haven’t done something to make the big boss obsessed?”

Sienna groaned. “Let’s just go.”

Marco chuckled, but thankfully, he dropped the subject.

Yet, as they walked the rest of the way, Sienna couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian’s gaze was still on her.

Watching.

Waiting.

And for the first time in a long time… she wasn’t sure if she was afraid.

Or if she liked it.